Chapter Thirty-Two — Seven Beasts at Once
They put the plan into motion.
First, they tossed two pieces of wood onto each horn of the monsters. The instant the blocks touched those massive horns, two colossal black hands erupted from the sand — like solidified shadows. They seized the wood and crushed it into scattered splinters that flew across the plain. Moments later the two beasts heaved themselves out of the shifting sand, their whole hulking bodies emerging as the dust fell away, probing for whatever had grabbed them.
What they had seized, however, was not a living thing.
[Name: The Black-Needled]
[Age: 2]
[Rank: E]
[Stage: Adult]
[Health: 408]
[Strength: 79]
[Speed: 12]
[Endurance: 23]
[Mana: 275]
[Physical Defense: 345]
[More details 巛]
The creatures realized at once that they had fallen into a trap. They spun violently and let out a low, furious rumble like a desert wind; then they looked about and saw the small cluster of humans not far away. They lunged as one, and as they charged a hail of poisonous needles spat forth like a sharp rain, aimed straight at the group.
"Fall back! We'll take them," Azrian shouted, raising his hand.
The others froze, and at once Azrian and Malik surged forward, each straight at a beast. Both wore the heavy hand-shields they had bought specifically for such foes — shields that covered most of the body. Azrian staggered a little beneath the weight, but his resolve did not waver.
The needles clanged against the shields with dull metallic sounds but did not penetrate; they simply scattered to the sand as if rejected.
The two warriors closed the distance with steady confidence, and when they were near enough they flung their shields forward in unison, smacking them into the monstrous faces. The impact stole the beasts' attention for precious seconds — all the opening the fighters needed.
They separated instantly, each moving to a flank so the beasts stood between them, unsure which way to turn. In a coordinated motion they drove their blades at the spear-like legs, aiming for the joints. Those points were the weakest — unarmored in certain stances — unlike the back or the forearms, where the shell was toughest. Their experience told them where to strike; they struck without hesitation.
Swords bit into legs with surgical strikes. Blow after blow, and within moments they had severed the legs on one side: each beast was left with only half its supports. The creatures howled — a deep, gutting sound that seemed to make the sand itself tremble — then toppled, losing balance altogether. Their massive bodies rocked, incapable of stable movement.
More dangerously for them, they could no longer use their forearms or tails effectively: their range was now limited. The tails, in particular, could not swing beyond a sixty-degree arc and could only launch needles forward, which left anyone standing behind them comparatively safe.
Azrian and Malik moved to the tails and hammered at their bases, raining blows on the same spot — twenty strikes apiece — until the hard outer shell began to crack, as if in pain. When they found and severed the tendons that powered the needle-launching mechanism, the tail went limp and dropped, dead weight.
The beasts screamed into the sand, a sound that shook the chest, but nobody broke formation. The two fighters moved to the remaining legs and finished them off; by the time they were done the two monsters lay splayed like fish on a butcher's board, awaiting the final stroke.
The others advanced from behind in stunned silence — especially Daniel and Lucas, who watched, mouths open, as the beasts were subdued without a single spell: human skill and meticulous planning had done the work.
They joined the dispatching carefully, always wary of the single still-moving forearm on each carcass. It was heavy and short-ranged and posed little threat to a fully vigilant group.
They began harvesting the precious parts: tails, joints, eyes, horns, plates from the tail. Everything was packed onto the wagons with care. Their spirits rose; Azrian and Malik's standing in the group had clearly grown.
---
Two days of relentless travel through the desert followed — sandstorms, the glare of a merciless sun. Then one of them spotted sensor-horns trembling above the sand — far more than before.
Seven.
Seven beasts, arranged like a guard line, their probing horns just visible over the dunes, fangs sunk into the earth, waiting for the smallest tremor.
Everyone understood at once: this was different. Not two, but a full pack, and if they failed to assert control from the first moment every passing minute could be deadly.
"We should withdraw. Find a smaller group," Risha said, voice hard.
Azrian nodded. "Seven… that is a large number, especially for this species."
But Daniel, unusually, did not agree. He asked, thinking aloud, "Was the speed we saw from the first two the maximum this kind can reach?"
"Yes," Risha answered. "Their running speed is almost that of an ordinary human, as you saw."
Niral looked at Daniel and understood his meaning immediately. "You want to use me as bait, don't you?"
Daniel did not hesitate. "Yes. That's the idea. If you're not comfortable—say so."
Niral merely smiled. "Why not? Sounds entertaining."
Risha sighed with clear displeasure. "Really? Are you two serious? You've forgotten these beasts attack from a distance. If one of you goes into melee it'll be torn to pieces!"
"You underestimate me," Niral said with quiet confidence. "Trust your teammates more."
Risha met his look with a challenge. "If you're so sure, then explain the plan."
Daniel laid out the scheme. At first it was sound — camouflage and luring were central — but the contingencies for what to do if the beasts closed physically were thin and full of holes. Malik and Niral reworked those parts on the spot, tightening the timing, the angles, the fallback procedures.
When the plan was agreed, they took up their positions, the wind the only sound besides the quickened beating of their hearts.